Ode on some Natty Ice

by Chris Richman on March 26, 2007

Thou cold unopened tin of pure splendor,
   Thou frosty gray tower of the Cheap Buzz,
You are the source of our endless benders
   And memories of last night rimmed with fuzz.
Frat house historian, whose dents and bruises
   Proclaim the ebb and flow of drunken brawls
And meeting the girls we dub our muses
   Until they seem fit to turn blue our balls.
What game of beer pong did you drain your soul
    So men could drink, profiting from your death?
What slut’s lips did kiss yours before she rolled
    Into the arms of Bill, with whiskey breath.
Thou shalt remain, when all else seems to fail
    Our friend, our pal, and release from the pits
We’ll sing highly your praise and tell your tale
    Whilst dealing with the morning-after sh*ts.

Think you can write a better poem than this one? Post it and send the link to CHPoetryCorner@gmail.com.  Each week we'll pick one poem to be featured in this spot. Put quill to scroll and get writing!

Check out past poems here.
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